


Sickening

by ProseApothecary



Category: Crashing (UK TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: Fred wakes up to something hitting him in the chest. Bleary-eyed, he registers Sam sitting in bed next to him.“Cough syrup and jellybeans,” he says, pointing to the plastic bag sliding down Fred’s torso. “I had to go to three stores before I found a pack without liquorice flavour. There’s water on the bedside table.” He grabs the laptop from his bedside table and puts it on his lap. “And 14 hours of quality romcoms.”
Relationships: Fred Patini/Sam
Comments: 9
Kudos: 80





	Sickening

Fred wakes up to something hitting him in the chest. Bleary-eyed, he registers Sam sitting in bed next to him.

“Cough syrup and jellybeans,” he says, pointing to the plastic bag sliding down Fred’s torso. “I had to go to three stores before I found a pack without liquorice flavour. There’s water on the bedside table.” He grabs the laptop from his bedside table and puts it on his lap. “And 14 hours of quality romcoms.” He taps on the keyboard and a movie starts playing.

Fred’s too tired to watch, but he smiles and curls into Sam’s side. He tentatively hooks an arm around his torso. Sometimes being in bed, wrapped around each other is enough to make Sam tense up. Not now. Clearly Fred being a phlegm monster is enough to quash any tension.

He used to get anxious about being sick, worried that he’d get too hazy, forget to eat and end up collapsing. But Sam has “time to feed Fred” etched into his internal clock as firmly as day and night. Fred’s absent-minded at the best of times, so Fred wordlessly handing him packets of chips has been pretty perfect.

Something must be happening in the movie, because Sam gives a half-sincere gasp, and his fingers give a little tug where they're running through Fred’s hair.

“I think you’re the nicest boyfriend I’ve ever had,” Fred says, half-awake.

Fred holds onto consciousness just long enough to see Sam’s eyes widen before his own eyelids flutter shut and sleep takes him.

Normally Sam wakes him up by tickling him. Or pinching him. Or elbowing him. Sometimes he’ll lean in so his face is just a couple of inches away and Fred gets a little fright the second he opens his eyes.

This is new though.

Sam’s running a hand up and down Fred’s arm and looking at him earnestly.

“Anthony’s making pancakes. Do you want some?”

“Um. Yes please.”

“Let’s get you four. You need to keep your strength up.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Fred’s forehead and gets up. “I’ll bring them up.”

Sam could be sweet. Sam _is_ sweet, but usually it comes across in looks and smiles and pet names. Spontaneous little gestures and phrases that he could play off. This seems very…concerted.

It’s making Fred a little anxious. It reminds him of the day his grandma died, back in primary school. All the teachers had started treating him with kid gloves, out of the blue, and he hadn’t known why.

Oh God. What’s being kept from him this time? Maybe Anthony burned the kitchen down making pancakes. Maybe Anthony and Kate were having a screaming match. Maybe Melody had moved in a vagrant to make Colin jealous. Maybe Sam was breaking up with him.

_Maybe Sam was breaking up with him._ Putting it off until he was better. Being extra nice to soften the blow.

Fred gets out of bed. Sam’s coming back in a minute, so there’s nothing he can do to level out his anxiety except pace the room. He paces. A lot.

The door opens. “Sorry, your stack is kind of messy. I made this whole confectionary castle on top of it, and then I thought that maybe sugar highs weren’t ideal for you, so I had to eat the whole…”

Sam looks up, puts the plate down and walks over to Fred.

What’s wrong? Did you _want_ a confectionery castle?”

“No. I just. You know that if you want to tell me something, you can…tell me.”

Sam gives him a confused look. “O-kay.”

“Like. If you wanted to tell me why you’ve been being weird today.”

“I haven’t been weird,” Sam says, falling short of nonchalance.

Fred levels his gaze at him.

“ _If_ I’ve been weird, it’s only because of what _you_ said.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m the ‘nicest boyfriend you’ve ever had’? That’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard.”

It starts to click. “Sam…I wasn’t telling you that to try to _guilt_ you into being nicer. I meant it.”

“I know! That’s what makes it so tragic.”

“Why? You’re nice!”

“I told Anthony that he dresses like an angsty teenage boy this morning,” Sam admits. “ _While_ he was making me pancakes.”

“So you thought you would just…construct a whole new personality?”

“Mm. Yeah, pretty much.”

“You’re definitely the most ridiculous boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Sam fixes him with an even more sceptical look. “Your last boyfriend had a blog of inspirational posters called ‘Will Power.” He seems to realise it’s not the nicest thing to say, so adds a “Sweetpea.”

Fred rolls his eyes. “Ok, you can stop doing… _that.”_

“I don’t know if I can turn it off at this point. I think I might just be a nice person now.”

“Really?” asks Fred, “like, polite, turn-the-other-cheek nice?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fred points at Sam’s extra-tight, extra-bright shirt. “Did you buy that from the children’s section?”

“Maybe you should try it, Treacle. You can’t wear Andre the Giant’s hand-me-downs forever.”

Fred smiles.

Realisation dawns on Sam’s face, along with a tinge of annoyance. “Let it be known that I lasted 12 hours.”

“Well done,” Fred says. “Now never do it again.”

He tries to pull Sam into a kiss, only to be blocked by a hand over his mouth.

“Nice try. I’m not catching whatever bubonic plague you’re carrying.”

“Changed my mind,” Fred says, trying to land kisses on Sam’s face. “I want sweet you back.”

Sam gently pushes Fred over to the bed and hands him the breakfast plate.

“Eat your pancakes, snot monster,” Sam says, pressing a kiss to his temple.

And Fred is certain, then and there, that no one’s ever been this nice. Or this snarky.


End file.
